


The Stupid Small Stuff

by Blossomwitch



Category: Saiyuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Found Family, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Injury Recovery, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Self-Esteem Issues, Very Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 11:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30003921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blossomwitch/pseuds/Blossomwitch
Summary: After the end of the near-disastrous fight between Seiten Taisei and Hakkai, Gojyo is the only one there to pick up the pieces. And there are a lot of pieces to pick up. Somehow, he and Hakkai are going to have to figure out a way to replace the sun for Goku—and that's only if he can manage to keep Hakkai alive.A missing chapter fic about the time in between the fight and Goku waking three days later, in which Gojyo drastically underestimates his own importance. Rated for language (because if there was ever a day to swear non-stop, Gojyo is having that day).
Relationships: Cho Hakkai & Genjo Sanzo & Sha Gojyo & Son Goku, Cho Hakkai & Sha Gojyo, Sha Gojyo & Son Goku
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	The Stupid Small Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after the fight between Hakkai and Goku/Seiten Taisei in the "Even A Worm" arc

Chapter One

“Hakkai. Say something.”

There was a sound—it wasn't a word, exactly, but a questioning noise from the other side of the jeep. Gojyo was almost sure it wasn't a coincidence. Almost.

“Hakkai. C'mon.”

“What—is it?” Hakkai was wheezing, but in a solar-plexus-got-crunched kind of way, not a lungs-got-shredded kind of way. Okay, he could live through that--but he also sounded disoriented.

Gojyo cast around briefly for some plausible lie why he would need Hakkai to speak, and couldn't find one. “You gotta talk,” he said bluntly. “I can't see well enough in this light to drive and keep checking if you're still alive at the same time.” _Not to mention, figure out where the hell we're going._ Right now, _away_ was all that mattered. Away from whatever had hurt Goku, and away from Sanzo.

“Oh.” It sounded like Hakkai understood, a point in favor of him being okay—but then there was silence.

“C'mon, man.”

“I don't know what...” He didn't finish his sentence; was that because he knew Gojyo understood him, or because he was passing out? Gojyo glanced over at him, frantically trying to steal a second's worth of assessment while navigating Jeep up a mountain road he was increasingly suspecting was not meant for cars. It was no good. He couldn't see anything.

Gojyo almost said something about Sanzo, but found he couldn't—not even to keep Hakkai awake and talking. He glanced in the backseat—stupid, a waste of a glance, the monkey was fine. Physically, at least. “Tell me—tell me how to make sukiyaki,” Gojyo said.

The noise that came from the passenger seat—was it a laugh? Probably? Probably a laugh, and not a gasp of pain? “You always say mine sucks,” Gojyo pointed out.

“You can't... just throw tofu...”

Gojyo experienced a brief moment of profound, unadulterated thankfulness as Hakkai, knowing he was being baited, took the bait anyway and dutifully began a semi-coherent explanation of why Gojyo's cooking was unacceptable. It let Gojyo take his focus off making sure Hakkai hadn't died again and pay more than almost-zero attention to exactly where they were going. It also let him pretend that they were having a tired rehash of a longstanding roommate dispute, instead of what was really happening.

_I am going to fucking kill that priest._

Gojyo paid just enough attention to make sure Hakkai was coherent and give him an occasional response—a _why not_ or _but that way's easier_ to keep him talking—while he scanned the road ahead. He could tell that despite his best efforts, Hakkai was running out of things to say about sukiyaki by the time Gojyo spotted something promising—some sort of cabin or shack, a little set back from the road ahead. That'd have to be it. These two couldn't stay out in Jeep all night, and even if another town was near they probably wouldn't be accepted at an inn, looking like they did. Like there was more blood outside them than inside.

So Gojyo pulled over next to the cabin, and spared a moment to hope it was unoccupied. He'd be commandeering it either way.

“Keep talking,” he muttered as he jumped out of the driver's seat, going around the back so he could put a hand on Goku's chest in passing and confirm that yep, warm and breathing regularly, nothing would kill the monkey. _Except whatever almost did. Holy bleeding fuck, I don't even know what happened to him_. “Just do me a favor and keep talking, Hakkai.”

“Where are you...”

“I said just keep talking. Just do that for me, okay?” Gojyo edged forward, weapon out; this was not a night for subtlety. He prodded the door with his foot; it swung open.

It looked like no one had been here for awhile; a single room, two cots shoved against opposite walls, a set of free-standing shelves with spare blankets. Gojyo spared a second to wonder if someone was looking out for them—not any of the gods that had anything to do with Sanzos, obviously, but some heavenly body that just happened to be feeling merciful today. This was definitely where they were staying.

Hakkai was not, to Gojyo's displeasure, still talking when Gojyo went back outside; worse still, he was twitching weakly in what Gojyo guessed was an attempt to get up. “Don't fucking move,” he snarled as he reached into the backseat, gingerly lifting Goku. _God, this kid weighs a ton. You'd think after losing all that blood--_

 _He's fine_ , Gojyo told himself firmly. He was extremely careful anyway as he maneuvered the sleeping monkey inside and over to one of the cots—the one pushed against the same wall as the door, so that if he needed to he would be able to spend the night next to the other cot, counting Hakkai's breaths, and still have a clear line of sight to the entrance.

 _He's looked this bad before_ , Gojyo lied to himself, settling Goku down gently. Looking at the kid's face, a spasm of rage caught Gojyo, freezing his breath for a second. He wanted to punch something; he wanted to punch one specific thing, and not stop until Sanzo was the one who couldn't breathe. But his hands were still full. _Goku's fine, he's just unconscious. He'll be fine._ At least until he woke up.

One problem at a time. Gojyo exited the cabin already saying, “I told you not to fucking move.” He was more than alarmed to realize it hadn't been necessary; Hakkai was exactly where Gojyo had left him. That was almost certainly a sign of how badly he was injured, rather than the first time in his life he'd actually done what Gojyo told him to. He probably would've crawled to Goku's bedside if he'd had even that much strength.

An unwelcome memory crossed Gojyo's mind—Sanzo, too injured to stand, crawling across the floor inch by inch. Trying to get back the sutra Gojyo's actions had cost him.

Gojyo clenched his fist, ruthlessly shoving the memory aside. “Don't even think about trying to stand,” he snarled as he moved to Hakkai's side, vaguely aware that he was dumping anger onto Hakkai that was mostly not about him. That was okay. Anger was better than anything else Gojyo could be feeling right now.

But Hakkai was limp, completely unresisting as Gojyo picked him up and carried him inside, and the absence of a fight put an end to Gojyo having the luxury of feeling anything but worry. “Aren't you going to tell me what a shit job I did driving your dragon?” he prompted as he maneuvered Hakkai onto the other cot.

“Do I really only complain?” Hakkai asked faintly. He smiled, but Gojyo couldn't bring himself to be reassured. He'd seen skeletons smile like that.

“I'm so sick of shoving your guts back in,” he muttered.

“Sorry to be a bother.”

“You really are.”

“Sanzo?”

Gojyo froze. He allowed himself a second before responding, to wonder which would be worse—that Hakkai wanted to talk about Sanzo, or that he was so disoriented from blood loss or concussion that he thought Gojyo _was_ Sanzo. “What about him?” he asked, only partially succeeding in keeping his tone neutral.

“Dead?”

Gojyo's fears eased a bit. He'd forgotten Hakkai had been in and out of consciousness after the fight, not able to pay much attention; he had no idea why Sanzo wasn't with them. “No.” Gojyo wanted very much to leave it at that, but he knew he wouldn't get away with it, so he ground out, “Walked away under his own power. I hope we never see him again.”

To his great relief, there were no further questions on that line. Gojyo let the silence be for a moment, assessing Hakkai's injuries and wondering if there was a sewing kit in the shack. The ikkou carried one, of course, but it was undoubtedly back at the last inn. He hadn't exactly had time to pack them up. Something had to be done, though, or Hakkai would die on him again, either of infection or slow exsanguination.

“Do you have my limiters?”

Hakkai sounded more subdued than he had before. Was it because of Gojyo's last answer, about Sanzo—or was it because he feared Gojyo's next answer would be _no?_ “Yeah,” Gojyo said, turning to the shelves to look for the supplies he needed. The weight of those three small cuffs was disproportionately heavy in his pocket. He forced himself to say the next part. “But I think the chances of you dying if you put them on are slightly higher than the chances of you losing your mind if you keep them off.” _But I'm not sure. Gods help me, Hakkai, I'm not sure._

The lack of response was telling. Hakkai never, ever went without his limiters. Either he agreed with Gojyo, or he was too exhausted and disoriented to argue about it. It didn't stop Gojyo from feeling like absolute shit for keeping them. _Well, at least he knows he's not wearing them: that's a point in favor for him not being disoriented. I have to assume he's not fighting it because he agrees with me._

_I have to._

Gojyo found a med kit easily enough in the cabin's supplies. It wasn't equipped to deal with this scale of injury, but at least there were bandages and a needle and thread. If he wound up needing more, he could check if Jeep— _oh, hell._ “Jeep, come inside!” Gojyo yelled, realizing Jeep was still patiently waiting for someone to unload him. Gojyo didn't give a shit if their stuff got dumped on the ground, but Jeep couldn't stay out there alone if there was any chance whoever hurt Goku was coming after them. _Dammit, how could I forget him?_

A moment later Jeep came crawling through the window, cheeping anxiously. His head swiveled between the two beds. Gojyo sternly and wordlessly pointed at Goku; and, for a wonder, the little dragon actually heeded him, flying over and curling up next to Goku's head. Good; he wouldn't get in the way, and he would probably do something to get Gojyo's attention if Goku took a turn for the worse. _Am I actually relying on the car to help with medical care? The car I forgot about until a second ago? Why am I so bad at this?_

Gojyo pushed the thought away. He still had a lot to do. “So,” he said, sitting on the edge of Hakkai's bed. “Sukiyaki. Tell me more,” he instructed as he started cutting Hakkai's shirt away. There was no salvaging it anyway.

“Goku,” Hakkai countered, tilting his head to look at the other bed.

“Yup. Goku,” Gojyo said firmly. “One hundred percent fresh-caught stupid monkey, no scary alter-egos present, and if you even _think_ about using a single drop of chi to do anything other than keep your own stupid body working I will--” Gojyo paused, realizing he had no idea how to finish his sentence. What, kill him? He'd only have to stop helping to achieve that. Hurt him? He was about to stab him a whole bunch of times with a sharp needle, and anyway Hakkai couldn't be threatened with pain, not with the way he treated himself. “I'll sing very loudly and badly off-key the whole time I stitch you up,” Gojyo finally declared.

He regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of his mouth—but gods, it was good to hear Hakkai laugh. Even if the laugh was quickly cut off by a gasp of pain, and even if it made a bit more blood pump weakly out of of the bloody mass currently passing for Hakkai's torso. “Such cruelty,” Hakkai managed, the wheeze back in his voice. “And here I thought you liked me.”

“You know what they say, gotta be cruel to kind.” Gojyo threaded the needle. “So. I seriously need you not to move for a bit, and that includes shutting up.” It was going to be bad enough having to sew deep wounds and work with all Hakkai's previous scar tissue without his diaphragm trying to get him enough air to speak. “But I'm gonna quiz you on everything I say after, so you'd better fucking listen.”

Hakkai was gazing across the room at Goku, but he smiled faintly, so Gojyo considered that agreement. He took a deep breath, inserted the needle, and started rambling.

He would never know later how he came up with something to talk about—not when so many topics were off limits and his mind was very much focused on what he was doing. But he nevertheless heard his own voice as though someone else was using it, chatting casually about sukiyaki and cigarettes and poker and gyoza and beer while he did the only stupid thing he could to keep body and soul together. He didn't have any healing skills or divine powers, just common sense and the determination to keep someone else alive. _Those two things have saved Hakkai before_ , he reminded himself. _There's no reason it won't work again. And if I can get him halfway stable before Goku wakes up, maybe between us we can keep the kid from breaking in half._

_Anyway, I don't have anything else to try._

When he'd done everything he could to patch Hakkai's torso, he looked up and found Hakkai watching him with an expression of—compassion? _Goddamn it, Hakkai... stop being better at this than I am, even when I'm trying to help you._

“You must be very worried,” Hakkai said gently.

“Shit, Hakkai,” Gojyo replied, a warning heavy in his tone. “Don't even start.”

“I don't think I'm dying, if that's any consolation.”

“You'd be a real over-achieving prick if you did, twice in the same day. At least pace it out a little.” _The same day—it's the same day still as when we were talking on the bridge, isn't it? When I was cruel enough to ask him what he thought about bringing people back from the dead, knowing what it would cost him to answer. Why'd I do that? Why'd I tell him I didn't know how I became part of his 'we?'_

“Ah ha. Thank you for the note.”

“Shit, Hakkai,” Gojyo muttered again, not knowing what else to say.

“I have to agree.” A ghost of a smile.

 _Stop with the self-pity, asshole, you'll get him started._ “So what'd I say?” Gojyo asked briskly, scooting down the bed so he could try to figure out what was wrong with the leg he'd seen Hakkai stop putting weight on before the battle was even over. “Pop quiz.”

“You said you were extremely worried that I might have a brain injury, and that if I fall asleep I might not wake up. Also that you're very angry at me for being briefly dead, but nowhere near as angry as you are with yourself for watching it happen, and you're trying to put that anger aside to distract me with blasphemies against sukiyaki while you perform what I fear is becoming an eternal task: that is, keeping me alive.”

“What do you know,” Gojyo said, pleased. Ridiculously pleased—he felt a sense of panic easing that hadn't abated since he'd rushed into the alley to find Goku dying. A person who could get all of that from Gojyo's rambling, and also say that many complete sentences in a row, was a person who was going to be okay. “You don't have a concussion.”

“I'm afraid not.” Hakkai winced, inhaling sharply—Gojyo had touched his swollen ankle as gently as he could, but apparently it hadn't been gentle enough. “Leave that,” Hakkai said. “It's shattered. I'll fix it later.”

Self-diagnosis—an even better sign. Gojyo took a deep, shaky breath. “Shit, Hakkai, you scared me.”

“I'm sorry.”

Gojyo almost replied _not your fault;_ but the words caught in his throat, because if he said them he would have been unable to keep from adding a whole bunch about whose fault it was, and he couldn't afford to do that yet. He looked Hakkai over, belatedly remembering there was a horrible gash on one arm that still needed suturing. He'd dismissed it earlier because arms were expendable. It was shallow, but huge. “Hey—do you think you could help hold this in place?” Gojyo asked, hating that he had to. Thank goodness Hakkai wasn't the type to be unnerved by holding his own skin closed.

“It isn't necessary,” Hakkai murmured, nonetheless letting Gojyo guide him into holding the wound closed. The exhaustion was so heavy in his voice it caused a brief, sympathetic surge of tiredness to seize Gojyo. “I can heal it myself.”

He could--tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that, when he got enough chi back to expend it on such things. “Face it, you just don't want me giving you more scars.”

“You're not the one giving them,” Hakkai mumbled, but his heart clearly wasn't in resisting. Gojyo could tell it was taking all of Hakkai's concentration, all of his strength, just to hold a flap of skin in place, and it made Gojyo wonder if he'd let himself feel relief too soon. Hakkai wasn't concussed, but his energy was dangerously depleted.

And he was dangerously inclined to waste what energy he had on others. “Gojyo, will you please check on Goku for me,” Hakkai murmured the moment Gojyo had cut the thread, a note of tension in his voice.

“'Kay.” Gojyo knew he had to, or Hakkai wouldn't leave it alone—but he felt a great reluctance to approach the other bed, and now that Hakkai was more or less stable he had to admit to himself that his reluctance had nothing to do with thinking Hakkai was going to kick the bucket if he looked away for more than two seconds. It had a great deal more to do with the wave of anger that gripped Gojyo as he looked down at Goku's sleeping face.

He didn't understand—had never understood—how people could abandon kids. He wouldn't ever understand it. And whatever else Goku was—Seiten Taisei, stupid monkey, taboo being—he was a kid.

Gojyo put a hand in Goku's hair, almost out of reflex, like if he messed it up Goku would wake up and call him stupid kappa and everything would be normal. The diadem was cool under his palm. Jeep watched inquiringly from the pillow as Gojyo ran his other hand over Goku's torso, tilted him slightly one way and the other, looking for any sign of injuries. The monkey had been sliced and diced, shot, and electrocuted, but for all his body knew about it nothing had happened. Nothing that Gojyo could fix, anyway. “He's fine.”

“He's bleeding?”

“Dude, that's your blood.” Gojyo made a mental note to get Goku into clean clothes as soon as possible; things were going to be hard enough on him without being drenched in Hakkai's blood when he woke up.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. So will you stop worrying about him?” Gojyo asked, wondering if he was capable of the same thing. “We know this routine by now. He'll wake up in a few days and not remember anything he did.” _Thank the gods._

“We don't have to tell him, do we?” Hakkai murmured.

“Not if you're okay by then.” Gojyo glanced at Hakkai—he looked the farthest from okay that it was possible to be and still be alive. And there wasn't much more Gojyo could do, for either of them. Just stupid shit that anyone could do. “I'm going to go get our stuff,” he said, hearing the helplessness in his own voice. “Don't die while I'm gone.”

Once outside, he could tell at a glance that at least half their stuff had been in Jeep when they'd had to flee. One more small mercy, then. Gojyo took a moment to stand still and quiet in the doorway, looking and listening for any sign they had been followed. Nothing. He hadn't sensed anything before Goku was attacked, though, so that probably didn't mean shit.

He brought their bags inside in two trips, stacking them against the wall. The cabin was small enough that their presence made it start to feel a little crowded. “You awake?” he checked, each time he came back in.

The first time Hakkai just made a small noise of acknowledgment, but the second time he said, “I am. But now that you know I'm not concussed you're going to have to let me sleep, Gojyo.” His voice was bone-weary. “I promise to wake up again.”

“Yeah?”

“I even promise to wake up sane if you give me my limiters.”

“Yeah.” Gojyo tried to conceal his shock at the realization he'd forgotten—and his shame, at having made Hakkai ask a second time. He retrieved the cuffs—cool, like Goku's diadem, despite having been against his skin all this time—and placed them in Hakkai's palm.

Hakkai grasped them loosely. He didn't put them on. Looking at him, remembering how he had barely been able to apply enough pressure to hold his own skin in place, Gojyo realized with sudden clarity that Hakkai no longer had enough strength to lift his arm.

Gojyo sat down wordlessly, and took the limiters out of Hakkai's hand. Hakkai's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. Gojyo wished to hell he could come up with some joke, some flippant comment, that would make this okay. The best he could do was pretend it was a totally normal, casual gesture, and not the very last thing Hakkai would ever want someone else to do for him, as Gojyo leaned over him and slipped the limiters on.

He didn't realize he was holding his breath until his lungs started to burn. He watched carefully—Hakkai's eyelids fluttered shut somewhere between the first and second limiter going on, and by the time the third was in place he was deeply unconscious, face completely slack. Gojyo stayed exactly where he was for a long moment, his hand grazing the limiters, ready to take them off at the slightest sign they had calculated wrong and Hakkai's body couldn't keep going without access to his full strength.

In the absence of speech, Gojyo could clearly hear the sound of the slow, regular breathing of two people deeply asleep. After a long moment, he let his hand drop, let himself take a deep breath. He looked around, at the bloody rags he'd thrown aside, the bags placed haphazardly against one wall, the dragon watching him anxiously from Goku's pillow. He smiled humorously. “Okay, Jeep. Now what?”

_tbc_


End file.
